Toke: A Stoner's Guide



Inspired by Carolyn Busa's writing @

A Stoner's Guide to Flying by Carlos Delgado

Hello. My name is Carlos Luis Delgado Lucio Peralta and I've been a stoner for 5 years, 2 years professionally. What makes me a professional stoner is not only that I claim all legal and illegal weed purchases on my taxes, but that I treat weed as a part of my job. And, as with most jobs, sometimes I have to travel.

Let’s cut to the chase, Marijuana is still an illegal drug under federal law and post-security areas at airports are ruled by federal agencies. The worst case scenario is you get pinned down in a shootout with the DEA over the 12 kilos of premium Chiba you got caught smuggling into Delaware. Not likely though. According to TSA representative, and totally not a lame weed pun, Lorie Dankers, “its officers remain focused on security and detecting weapons, explosives and other threats to aviation and passengers — not on sniffing out drugs.” Note: if you’re flying domestic, don’t worry about TSA dogs. For domestic flights, dogs are mainly used to sniff for explosives, not drugs. If you’re flying international, DO NOT FLY WITH DRUGS. THE DOGS WILL FIND YOU AND TAKE YOUR BREATHE.

So, let’s say you’re going to allegedly travel with some cannabis. My policy is: I carry everything but flower, allegedly. Edibles and oil vape cartridges are my bread and butter when it comes to air travel. In my experience, I have traveled with a respectable amount of cookies and vape pens in my carry-on without any issue. I stick them right next to my Xanax and “Plane Wreck” pack of cigarettes (I don’t smoke cigarettes but when I fly, I bring a pack in my carry-on in case the plane goes down. I’m not going out without chuffing down one last dart). Most of the time a TSA agent will check a bottle of pills before putting a ziplock bag of sugar cookies under a microscope. Also, too many people travel with nicotine vapes for TSA agents to discern whether every vape cartridge contains Jack Herer or Cotton Candy Cantaloupe E-Juice, so vape on my friends.

Now that we’ve made it past security, it’s time to take off. Depending on weight, it takes anywhere between approximately 45 minutes - 2 hours for an edible to kick in. I usually eat a 100mg edible on the car ride to the airport. By the time I’m going through TSA, I’m starting to feel some tingling in my feet and should be fully enjoying the high by the time the plane is ready for take-off.

In order to enjoy my flight with minimal disturbance or discomfort I have come up with a system called the “Green Apron System.”

  1. Go to the bathroom before you board the plane. Also, try to avoid big meals before flying.

  2. Choose a window seat. This prevents other passengers from disturbing you by climbing past you for the bathroom.

  3. A double-sided neck pillow, or two neck pillows worn at the same time. This is to keep your neck upright and comfortable without having to lean back or against the window.

  4. Sleep mask.

  5. Earplugs or comfortable headphones. Make sure you test the tension of the headphones before flying. Even your trusty pair of Skull Candys will give you a headache if you wear them for long enough. There’s also sleep headphones which are basically a sleep mask and headphones that can be worn to bed. This is my choice.

  6. Optional: a sign pinned to your shirt that instructs the Flight Attendants to wake you up for food or snacks. Yes, I am serious and don’t call me Shirley.

In case you were wondering, I do not vape on the plane. Most airplanes have been fitted with dual smoke and vapor detectors and the crew will land a plane over a vape filled bathroom. Similar to the International Flight scenario, carry on at your own discretion. In closing, I like to fly high. This is how I do it. I hope this helps you fly high a little smoother, if that is something you like to do too.


Lady Word?

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery but sometimes theft is just theft. This has been my philosophy with jokes. The ol' "if they have to steal it's because they aren't funny." And, "Don't worry, you can keep writing new jokes, they can't." But this isn't about someone lifting some jokes at a show.

Passivity and non-confrontationalism have been the hallmark of Latino-American culture. It's the concept of, "hey, we're just happy to be here so let's not rock the boat." More than any other ethnicity Latinos suffer from medical misdiagnosis because they're too afraid to tell doctors they're wrong (source). "It's not seizures, it's palpitations, but he's a doctor. He must be right." - An actual thing my mom said to me before I ran back to tear a doctor a new asshole because my mom is not clinically passive, just conditioned to think so.

There's been a lot of articles out recently about how Women and Latinos are the most invisible groups in entertainment, whether behind or in front of the camera, even though they make up a significant portion of box office sales, enough that there should be way more Women and Latinos in leading roles. What does this mean, Carlos?

Well, it would be easy for me to complain or chide at artists who have put in work, despite their award-nominated stories being lifted (Lady Bird), and I could joke about stealing white movies and "re-imagining" them as Latino cast film parodies (think Jardín State, Citizen Carlos, Super Malo), but I'm not going to do that. When it comes to Hollywood, it's not the directors that are flawed, it's the system. 

"Lady Bird" didn't intend to go out and be awarded for a storyline that was original and fresh 15 years ago, but with a Latino lead. It didn't intend to show us that the entertainment industry celebrates originality, as long as it can relate to its Whiteness. Get Out was nominated, not only because it was an example of Black excellence in writing, acting, and directing, but because the people voting on such things saw their faces in the film (e.g. Allison Williams & Bradley Whitford). Not so much in Real Women Have Curves.

Guillermo Del Toro won a Golden Globe for The Shape of Water because his River Monster God romance was more relatable than seeing a Latino court a White women on the silver screen (not a shot at Del Toro. I loved that movie and I have my own theory that every Del Toro movie is about a hideous monster trying to bang a White woman and it turns out, he's the monster the whole time).

This is the conversation we (Latinos) are having in private and I want other people to feel where we’re coming from. I don’t want to tear down Greta Gerwig, she put in the work. But, I don’t want another Lady Bird. I want a Dama Pájaro. So what now? I'm gonna do what I love to do.

I love to struggle to find originality in my voice. I am a first generation Ecuadorian-American, that grew up in the majority White/European Ironbound section of Newark, NJ, moved to a majority Dominican neighborhood after my family fell apart, I went to a majority Black high school and then went to college for an English Degree (which I got to spite a TA that flunked me in Lit 101 freshman year). Then I became a successful stand up comic and TV writer (I can't believe it either). I don't know who I am, but I know exactly how I am and if anyone has to lift this kind of story to write their own, I'm sorry you feel like you have to do that and also, f**k you try harder.

The Latino entertainment community is tired of being invisible and we're gonna let Dr. Hollywood know there's been a grave misdiagnosis. We are not clinically passive. We were strategically waiting. #Latinxcellence 

This was written while listening to Chicano Batman. Check out their NPR Tiny Desk Concert here.

Trump 2016 and Cocaine

I consider myself lucky to have been born in America. Maybe my folks could have done better than New Jersey, still - I'm thankful to be an American citizen. I grew up in a very specific time and place that, looking back now, CLEARLY defined not only my identity, but my perspective. I grew up in a suburb of Newark, NJ called the Ironbound.

At that time (the 1980's-90's), the Ironbound was  comprised of Portuguese, Spanish (Spain), and Polish immigrants. Italians had long ago fled north, and African-Americans were forced out in the Aftermath of the Newark riots. For all intents and purposes this was a white European Ghetto. And it was around that time that Ecuadorian immigrants started to arrive. I don't know who the first one was, but I imagine him as a small man wearing a high fitting fedora and JNCO jeans. My parents arrived in the early 80's and, unfortunately, did not wear JNCOs.

I grew up feeling different from everyone. I had no siblings and only a handful of kids in my school were Latino. The majority of those kids immigrated with their parents and were funneled into the ESL program, where I was not enrolled. In terms of familiarity (faces and names I felt comfortable around) it was just me, my parents, and the "paisanos," my extended family and friends of family, that came up to America from Ecuador after my parents were established in New Jersey. My discomfort came from growing up around casual racism: slurs, refusal of service, and, in some cases, violence.

This racism wasn't apartheid, far from it, but it was everywhere and it was unchecked. I remember specifically, in the fifth grade, my history teacher tried to ridicule me in front of my classmates, of which I was the only Latino, after I answered a question "wrong." My answer was "Leif Eriksson." Her question, "who discovered America?" I knew it wasn't the answer she wanted, and I honestly didn't care. But I wasn't wrong, I was just not "right." And, because she couldn't explain why I was so "wrong," she decided to embarrass me instead. "You think you're right, but that's not what the book says. See, when your not from here sometimes you get things mixed up. You probably think the Boston Pops are soda huh? Its not Soda haha, they're a band. You'll learn how to answer questions 'right,' when you pick up the language better." I was never part of the ESL program, despite initial protests from the school's admissions office. In fact, I grew up fluent in English, Spanish, and Portuguese - and still am.

I told my mother about what happened, and she stormed into my school the next day, ignoring the fact she didn't speak a lick of English. At the time there were no Spanish speaking faculty members available to translate, the one Spanish speaking teacher was busy handling a class of 30 ESL students, in a classroom that fits 20. So, I served as an interpreter for my principal, vice-principal, and history teacher, translating to the best of my ability the fire that was spewing out of my mother's mouth. In case you didn't know, fire is the same in all languages.

I did the best I could to capture my mother's anger, and a lot of what she said flew out so fast, that I can barely remember any of it. But what still sticks with me was what she said with the most vitriol; "My son is no different than any other child in this school! He is smart and speaks perfect English! Better than some of the teachers here (points to my history teacher). His words mean as much as any other child's. His answers mean as much as any other child's. He means as much as any other child because, he is an American." The next day, I was transferred out of that class, and placed into AP classes, where Leif Eriksson was not necessarily the right answer, but it sure as hell wasn't the wrong answer.

Donald Trump's immigration policy, if enacted before my birth, would have given me a very different childhood. The part of the policy I refer to specifically, is the elimination of birthright citizenship. I am an American citizen because I was born in the United Stated of America, and am subject to the jurisdiction thereof. This is the language of the Fourteenth Amendment and has been in place since 1868. If this amendment were struck as part of Trump's immigration reforms, I would have been born in the United States, but not considered a citizen of the United States.

Thankfully, Trump's reforms were not enacted before my birth (because Trump hasn't figured out time travel...yet). But, I know what would have happened if they were. If I were not born a citizen, my parents would have had to apply for my citizenship. But, odds are they couldn't have, because they were not even citizen's yet themselves. The naturalization process is daunting and costly - needing resources immigrants don't have readily available: time and money (which is also what I call my left and right fist). This means I would have grown up as a resident alien, or possibly even an illegal alien. I don't know if you've ever felt the fear of an INS raid on a sweatshop, but my mother described it to me as: "imagine the police are making a drug raid at your job. They kick in the door and run in with dogs and guns and screaming to get down on the ground. Most people would be a little scared, but they did nothing wrong, so they get down and wait for it to be all over. Now, imagine you... are made of cocaine."

I have never felt that fear. I can only imagine what having that fear in grade school would do to a child. Trump's policies, if enacted, would not impact my citizenship status. I'm grandfathered in. But it would do two things for future generations. It would create an environment of fear for immigrant-born children. And, it would rob immigrant-born children of their confidence.

I was never in a position, growing up, where my citizenship was seriously questioned. No one ever asked me for my papers. Also, I didn't understand all of the rights and liberties that my citizenship awarded me, or the vulnerabilities for that matter. All I knew was, no matter what anyone said about my appearance or my efforts, It didn't matter, because I was an American. And that confidence, meant everything to me, even if I didn't know it at the time. And now, it's possible that future immigrant-born children won't have that confidence. Instead, they could grow up feeling institutionally marginalized. They could grow up terrified of being caught in a drug raid, because the government has decided, they and their entire family, are made of cocaine.